storm

i can see why the ancients believed that it stormed when gods were angry. i think it storms when they cry in pain... it started half an hour ago... coming from the direction my office window faces. first, the roll of thunder in the distance, and flashes of light without a distinctive source. the rumbling came closer, threatening. the flashes lingered seconds, showing the layers of clouds above... a huge storm front in the north, with clear skies in the east, the margin of the cloud shroud clearly visible. then the lightnings. vertical ones, horizontal ones, single-line ones and zig-zagged ones. it's a godly spectacle. a god roaring in pain and anger, releasing all frustration in mighty roars of thunder and lightning. a magnificent spectacle of several minutes... and then, having vented all, he started crying huge raindrops for tears, hitting viciously on windowpanes. i had to close the window, lest the office carpet should get drenched. silly me has left home without the camera again. not that i truly think i could capture a lightning, but still... the thrill of the chase for a sign of a emotion from a god... i love storms. yeah, i know, you'll think "you wouldn't say that if it caught you in the open". no, i probably wouldn't love a storm then. but i'd still find it magnificent.

i was born too late...

... in a world that doesn't care... i wish i was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair.

that is one option. c'mon, would've been great to've been a teen at woodstock. but taken that's impossible, how about being born three or five years earlier. i was just looking at sweet child of mine. heck, i swear i would've fallen for axl had the band still been around when i discovered music :)))) i often catch myself wishing i'd... remember things. things that happened during my lifetime but in a time i wasn't aware of them, or interested in them or whatever. i wish i'd... been there.

i've mentioned before how out of place i feel, though i think it's rather out of time. and... well, yes, i think i could've gotten along just fine without the internet and e-mails and mobile phones and digital cameras and 24hr shows on 42 channels on color cable tv and microwave food (well, i don't actually use that, but it just came along the line).

i... fuck, i have no idea what i actually want to say in this post. it's a bit of school nostalgia and... nostalgia in general, but for something i haven't been there to see. like the urge to travel one gets, but not travel in space, but in time. i was born too late... :( hey, i'm as old as E.T. ... he got to his home, i didn't. i'm entitled to be depressed.

i hope i'm not right...

... this thing has happened twice to me in the past. it might've be a coincidence that a superstition confirmed as fact when it was just that - a coincidence.

first time was in early may 1994. it was but a brief thought that came to my mind then quickly darted away - a thought i laughed off as silly in spite of the uneasiness it caused. the thought was "how would i react if he died today?" followed by a flash of myself, wide-eyed in disbelief in front of the tv. he did die that day, though i was not there to see it. i hadn't had the patience for the race, so i went out to play volleyball instead.

second time, it wasn't a person, but a dog following me to school one morning, in the eight grade. again, the thought came and went; again in the form of a 'what if' and 'what would i do'. oddly selfish way to shape thoughts about others' death, though rather common, i'd presume. i tried to shoo him away, but he wouldn't go. he got hit by a car at the next street crossing. bastard didn't even slow down.

last night, it was an image flash, so short i didn't even realize what it was. it left behind a smell. i was half asleep and it took me several seconds to identify the memory it belonged to. smells are among the most powerful memory-callers i know. then i woke up and also identified that diffuse anxiety that went with it and the two times i'd felt it before. i hope it was just a dream and i remembered it for waking up so abruptly. i almost never remember dreams but for some rare exceptions, which are either very queer or nightmares. so... i hope it was just shreds of what i was dreaming when something woke me suddenly.

ps: nightmare by Paul Bielaczyc on elfwood

random stuff

i am back, though some might not even know i was gone. amsterdam and bonn in case you wonder and/or care and if not, what the hell are you still doing reading my blog? it is strange how one (or i...) can feel so at home in places i've been but once before. as it is equally strange how a mere change of setting can change my mind frame for the time i'm there. all the nastier the realisation that this here is my life, not that one there. perhaps i will tell you a bit about the trip on another occasion.

on another front... one more down. they're less and less by the day. less strings. a pity or a relief, i am not sure.

work stuff... i got a raise. not much, but it's something. doesn't make up for giving up moderating, but makes the difference between then and now less obvious. i am still relieved of having given that up - the strain on me is much less.

the project... well, just goes to prove that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself. though i've left all materials when i left and asked my 'colleagues' to conduct it, nothing has been done. needless to say we're one and a half month overdue. i don't know who'll sign the report on this one. i for one, won't. i've re-read my mails in october, calling out to people. i stated there and then that i don't have the time to manage all aspects of it. i can't wait for it to be over, so i can formally retreat from any such NGO actions. they've been a thing i took pride in for a long time and they gave me a sense of accomplishment, but i've come to see, quite cynically, that it's not worth my time, effort and least of all involvement. like anything is!

school's coming along ok, though i'm a bit behind with my final paper. seeing that i picked a subject i can plunge myself into out of pleasure, i am not too worried about it though. once i start out on it, it should come along ok. keeping the things in an area that interests me is a lesson i learnt early on. for my last exam, i did a PR campaign plan for a tribe i lead in an online game. for the one coming on saturday, i started work on a website for my tribe on the romanian server. and i enjoy every bit of it.

moving on to the games section... neverwinter nights 2 is the hit. even if only for this, my brand new computer that cost a fortune was well worth its money. and hey, it just looks better on a wide screen lcd monitor :D. the other game i'm in is the aforementioned one. tribalwars. come join on world 8 if you are bored. :D of course, there has to be some bickering and bitter musing about it.

people cheat. they create multiple accounts to support their main one with resources and armies. i don't see the point in cheating in such a game. what does it prove if you are a top ranking player and got there cheating? not a fucking thing - only that you are not good enough to make it by the rules. i can understand theft, arranged football games, bribe, whatever, when it gains something. but this is a game for god's sake. i despise cheaters. bragging cheaters even more so. a colleague of mine got his account shut down for it - all seven of them that is. as much as it pains me to see how it has affected him, i can't help being holier-than-thou and thinking he got what he deserved.

well... what else to report? oh yeah. books. big books. big english books. big english fantasy books. drizzt absolutely rules. i love them. they are my trips away when i'm still here. or when my body's still here. i almost never am.

makes me wonder...

i have no idea how to start this blog so it will begin pretty abruptely. actually, this thing is in relation with the previous blog: the two were intended to be squeezed in the same post but in the end i decided i should treat them separately, as there is no direct link between the two... merely a stream of consciousness one :) (or 'scream of consciousness, as a friend of mine put it... am gonna change my blog labels to that one - far more fitting).

thus, it is not in direct relation with the respect i give to certain people or the way they lose even the most basic form of it... it's something that happens before they get the chance to do so: i've always been some sort of a snail. cowering in my shell and reluctant to get my antennae out to explore and take the first step in a new social situation. forcing me to do so has never resulted in anything good for me, emotionally speaking. i do things like that in my own time and in my own way, that, admittedly, is hard to understand by most. i also have some apparently weird criteria based on which i choose the persons i consider worth 'exploring' more in depth. however... i did. i bonded on several occasions.

i guess it is a fact of life that people disappoint people. nothing new in that. but it always leaves me with a very bitter taste. and of course, the more i like the person, the more faith i put in them, the higher the expectations, the harder the fall. at some point, i've reached the conclusion that it's just not worth the effort i put in knowing people (again, in my sense of 'knowing'). why bother, really? so i just try to go with the flow, whenever possible.

i'm glad when interaction goes to a deeper level then 'hi, how are you?', but i try not to expect it... and even less expect it to be rewarding in any way when it does. and even when it gets there... i kind of half not expect it to last. it's a darn pessimistic point of view, i know. but what is generally known as 'faith in people' has gone down the drain as far as i am concerned.


so basically i've just retreated back to my shell. if anyone's curious about me, they can knock on my door, i am not going to volunteer to come out. i don't believe in marketing oneself. because i don't want to sell an image. tried that, i don't know whether because i was following a trend, trying to stay in line with the way people my age behaved or because it was an artificially created need... but i tire of upholding an image and it's not worth it in 98% of the cases. so if it's image you look for, you might as well move on without stopping... you're in a rush to live your life anyway and i'm not curios about that.

i still don't have a reason
and you don't have the time
and it really makes me wonder
if i ever gave a fuck about you...

r.e.s.p.e.c.t.

so... how do i respect someone? well, as much as it may seem a yes or no issue, it isn't. well, not for me in any case. there is a minimum level of respect that i give a priori to someone. for the sheer fact that they exist. a way of acknowledging their existence. things like saying hi and not stepping on their feet as if they weren't there. a respect generally due to every man (as in person, not male).

then there's the respect for a certain thing. a trait like intelligence, kindness, perseverance or an achievement of sorts. i can disagree with one thing and respect another about a person. and then there's the respect for someone as a Man with a capital M (again, as in person, not male). for everything they do, they are, they stand for. and that's of course the hardest to get.

now, the weird thing is... the basic level... it's darn easy to lose, from my point of view. it has happened quite a few times lately. i still answer to hi's and questions asked, though in a rather cold and to-the-point way. and that's about it. otherwise i ignore the person's existence, except maybe the occasional annoyance. but they're not worth a dime in my eyes... and neither is anything they say or do. they may be the kindest, most intelligent, most persevering, achieving person i know... it's nothing without that basic respect. because that person has become a sub-human to me. and it seems so easy these days to fall out of the homo sapiens species...

speaker for the dead

A great rabbi stands teaching in the marketplace. It happens that a husband finds proof that morning of his wife's adultery, and a mob carries her to the marketplace to stone her to death. (There is a familiar version of this story, but a friend of mine, a Speaker for the Dead, has told me of two other rabbis that faced the same situation. Those are the ones I'm going to tell you.)

The rabbi walks forward and stands beside the woman. Out of respect for him the mob forbears, and waits with the stones heavy in their hands, "Is there anyone here," he says to them, "who has not desired another man's wife, another woman's husband?"

They murmur and say, "We all know the desire. But, Rabbi, none of us has acted on it."

The rabbi says, "Then kneel down and give thanks that God made you strong." He takes the woman by the hand and leads her out of the market. Just before he lets her go, he whispers to her, "Tell the lord magistrate who saved his mistress. Then he'll know I am his loyal servant."

So the woman lives, because the community is too corrupt to protect itself from disorder.

Another rabbi, another city, He goes to her and stops the mob, as in the other story, and says, "Which of you is without sin? Let him cast the first stone."

The people are abashed, and they forget their unity of purpose in the memory of their own individual sins. Someday, they think, I may be like this woman, and I'll hope for forgiveness and another chance. I should treat her the way I wish to be treated.

As they open their hands and let the stones fall to the ground, the rabbi picks up one of the fallen stones, lifts it high over the woman's head, and throws it straight down with all his might. It crushes her skull and dashes her brains onto the cobblestones.

"Nor am I without sin," he says to the people. "But if we allow only perfect people to enforce the law, the law will soon be dead, and our city with it."

So the woman died because her community was too rigid to endure her deviance.

The famous version of this story is noteworthy because it is so startlingly rare in our experience. Most communities lurch between decay and rigor mortis, and when they veer too far, they die. Only one rabbi dared to expect of us such a perfect balance that we could preserve the law and still forgive the deviation. So, of course, we killed him.

-- San Angelo, Letters to on Incipient Heretic, trans. Amai a Tudomundo Para Que Deus Vos Ame Crist o, 103:72:54:2

Orson Scott Card - Speaker for the Dead, Prologue to Chapter 16

the kids aren't alright...

babies, babies, babies everywhere. worse than in natasha bedingfield's video. everyone around seems to be either expecting or just had offspring. not really my concern except for the occasional thought to the global population boom. but what is my concernc is when the question comes up "and you? when are you going to have a baby?".

O_O. pardon me?!?!?! i never realised that was anyone's business but mine. so my answer is usually "never, if i have any say about it." which in turn, triggers two main type of reactions: either a condescending smile and a you'll-see-you'll-change type of attitude (when i grow up, when i meet the right person, or even more stupid, when i'll eventually have the kids o_O); or else, a shocked expression and "what? but why? don't you like kids?" errrrm. nope. not really.

the pregnancy. i hate the sheer idea of it. the thought that something actually grows inside of me is disgusting and scary at the same time. ok, maybe i could handle stomach worms... but a human being is definitely more than i can handle. also, i don't want to see my body do stuff to my mind; i don't want to see it change beyond my control; i don't want to have emotional reactions triggered by it. pms is bad enough as is, thank you.

the birth. errrrrm.... ouch? i freak out when i need to go to the dentist or having a blood analysis so caesarian section is out of the question ('sides, it's not good for the kid either; emotionally speaking) from the start. i suck at handling pain. and having this... thing come out of me, with people staring up my cunt to take it out... errrrm, pardon my french but... why?!?!? don't give me the 'rewarding feeling' and the 'joy after' bullshit, i'm not swallowing.

child rearing. if there's one torture in this world that sends me climbing up the walls in less than two seconds it's gotta be toddlers crying. (dogs crying does it to, but that's not the issue). and it doesn't wake any nursing feelings, sorry for you, folks. it's... anger, for lack of a better definition. no "oh, what's wrong with the baby, let me ease its distress". it's more like "shut the fuck up, you idiot critter or i'll smash your head against a wall". and in all truth, i think i would be quite capable of doing it. you've got no idea how i feel when i hear that. presuming i ever got so far as to have a kid, the best thing would be to take it out of my reach and quickly. i don't want to spend the rest of my life in jail for infanticide.

little kids. "oooh, myyyyy, what a sweeeeeet little baaaaabyyyyy". sounds familiar? what the heck is it people see in babies? they're not sweet, they're ugly. they're a wrinkled pinkish (we're talking caucasian here) parcel of skin that pees, shits, drools and makes noise. horrible noise. the above mentioned drying. what's sweet about that? tell you something... i've had my share of diaper changing and i hope to never ever EVER! have to do it again. and don't tell me it's not the same. shit is shit no matter what. feeding the child... are you nuts? i'd end up taking my eyeballs out with that plastic spoon before i'd make the kid swallow something.

kids. whims. cries. wanting this, not wanting that. doing the opposite of what they are told. constant supervision. demanding 24/7. needing stuff. growing up to be unthankful bastards until it's too late... should i go on? i guess i am the ultimate selfish person... but i want a life for my own. i want to sleep when i want to sleep, eat when i want to eat, use any language i want in my own home, watch any tv programmes i like, go out in the evenings when i like, travel unhindered and so on and so forth. and yes, i know i won't stay young forever. but frankly, any person out there who thinks of kids as their support in old age is (1) extremely selfish, since you don't make kids and programme them to be your crutch and (2) extremely naive thinking that they actually will be there.

hell, i can't even take proper care of a dog, i am ashamed to admit. and that when a dog demands much less and gives back so much more. i just don't want kids. i am not the right person to have them, either. if by some stupid mistake i did, i'd end up hating them and balming them for never having the life i wanted, even though it may not be their fault after all... but i'd still feel like they stole away my life. and this is not how a child should be brought up :( why ruin their life along with mine, making them live up to expectations they never could fulfil, hating them for their sheer existence, making them feel unwanted, giving un-proper care or no care at all...?

any rational and emotional analysis leads me to the fact that the sane thing to do is not have a kid in the first place. it would be wrong, both for me and for that presumed kid. which leads me back to the first issue. why is this so unacceptable by most? why is my way of thinking less normal or moral or whatever than that of people having kids even though they are just as unsuited as myself for being a parent? why am i the oddity in this freak show, when all i actually do is prevent ugly stuff from happening...

thank you... i'll stick to dogs. one day i gotta do it right :(
'sides, dog pups actually are cute.

losers weepers (5) the rose thorn

and there are no finders. you don't know what you got till it's gone. and sometimes you know, and you can't help it going away.

one thing i lost very early on is the full enjoyment of success and my respect for poor losers and their envy. it's the former i regret, not the latter. because success is most often hard worked for and deserves something. at least unspoilt delight at achieving it. but... it's lonely at the top.

i was in the first grade. at the end of it, to be precise. i was seven years and almost three months young. it was a hot june day. probably around the 15th of june. last school day of my first year at school.

everybody wears festive clothes: teachers, parents. we are gathered in a small square yard, with broken asphalt, white and reflecting the sun. the walls of the school rose around us. at the first (and only) floor, there was a covered balcony-like thing - it linked all classes there. i can see the windows from my classroom from where i stand. the first one is the window i sit by, second or third desk. light green paint peels off the reel of the the balcony. but that's not what i see when i look up there. i see my parents and my granny. i wave to them.

we are meant to stand in rows. in groups - class A, class B, class C. the taller ones in the rows in the back. i get second row. there's a girl in front of me named astrid. there are several desks in the front. there are books on them. and some papers. i have a flower bouquet in my hands. almost every pupil has one. they will be handed to teachers and then they will pile up on the desks. it now feels like an oddly solemn ritual... we offer flowers and the mighty teachers smile down benevolently upon us and give us books in return. it is warm in the uniform. i hate the school uniform. i also hate the white band holding back my black hair but it's school regulation.

we get prizes according to our end of the year mark. first prize, second prize, third prize and some runners-up. i have straight A's. i'll get the first prize. me and about five others. it's the first grade after all. i switch places with astrid. i wave at my parents. i am proud and keep raising my thumb, signaling that i got first place. as if it is something of tremendous importance. for seven years old me, it is. from the first day i went to school, i had the fix idea that i am not allowed to get bad marks. that getting a 4 will get me punished. don't ask me why or how i got the idea in my head. i think i might have already explained it on the blog.

the teacher comes over. she says astrid and i must switch places. "go to the second row, astrid. let d. come in the front." so it's not about height, like in gym class. front row is for the ones who got the best results. i switch places with astrid. i keep waving at my parents. more discreet now. but astrid isn't happy. and i am finding that out on my own skin. literally. i hear a muttering behind me and it sounds grudging and angry, in a cold way. "d! always d! always in the front". and i feel a sting in my arm. i turn around to look at her. i am shocked at the reaction, the sting hurts and i am puzzled as to what exactly i had done wrong. she holds the thorn of a rose in her hand, that she has torn off one of the roses in her hand. that's where the sting had come from.

the rest is a blur. i got up front when my name was called, i gave the flowers to teacher as had the ones before me, i received a couple of books and the diploma. they didn't give me a flower wreath to put on my head as i knew they did in some schools. but it didn't matter. nothing mattered much. my parents were happy and proud. i was happy and proud... sort of.

i don't know if it was a coincidence or not, next year i got second prize. 9,97 instead of 10. but then again in the third grade and every year after that i ended up being the best in my class. not many more straight A lines, but still the best. up to graduation in the 12th grade. and that sting was always there, in one form or another. even though it never took the shape of a rose thorn again.

Thorn by Tishounette

tearing myself apart

it seems i have developed this thing into a hobby recently (there, nearly wrote 'hobbit' instead). cutting and tearing away little bits from me and systematically destroying them. i am cutting away people, places, habits... i burn bridges behind me, but fail to move on. what will i do when i set fire on the very bridge i am now, suspended mid-air? i have no wings to fly; i have no one to catch me should i fall. i was merely using this bridge as a swing, idly relaxing on it between here and there above a chasm.

i keep on severing more and more ties. i started this quite a while ago and quite unaware. getting rid of all the driftwood... every single relationship i got nothing back from. or not enough. and they were quite a few. maybe i'm too demanding, who knows? and who cares? maybe i'm just sick of playing give and take without the take part. and i don't care about being polite about it, either.

i am cutting away things i used to do that aren't fun anymore. i can't wait for this stupid project to end. and it sounded like so much fun in the beginning. i simply don't care about it and how it turns out, though i occasionally have a twitch of conscience. at the end of may and the project, i plan to rid myself of any contact with the organisation and its actions. also, i will formally resign my position in the other organisation, the doggy thing, as well. and come to think of it... it's five years of my life that i've invested in these things, with energy and emotion. to no avail.

i will finish my master's degree this summer. i couldn't care less about it, honestly. it's all about the paper :(. and it started from their point of view. well, if all they want is my money, all i want is their paper. a pity. also, i have gradually retreated from my moderating activities. it just takes its toll on me. i hate being in the middle of conflicts. i hate being involved in conflicts. i hate having to solve them between other parties. i hate making decisions.

and now... we come to the closing chapter. once i've cut off all the bits and pieces of this thing called my everyday life that i can do without... why not face it head on and break it? well, because it's a decision. and i'm about the worst decision maker you could have. i can't even decide whether to have rice or pasta with my chicken for lunch. in the end, i go with the flow, or toss a coin, or do whatever feels like less effort...

i've taken all this in stride because it felt like it was better for me, selfish as it may sound (oh yes, underneath it all and an apparent generosity, i am also one of the most selfish persons i know). however, i was fine with cutting away all these useless (as it now seems) limbs because the process and the pain involved affected me in a bearable manner. i could apply some sort of local anaesthesia to make the spot numb. but now... it will hurt like hell. it will erase virtually all i've known as "my life". and the people it will affect in the process... their pain will affect me too, more than i like or care to admit. add to that the anxiety of radical change.

telling myself that it's better in the long run has no soothing effect. i am killing others and my self (as in who i am now) in a gamble. not taking a stance in this however equals a decision in itself, the decision to stay put until it is too late to move on even if i wanted it. it is, psychologically speaking, one of the worst positions i can find myself in. and i perceive it as an utterly unfair thing to ever place me in such a position. so god or fate or whatever it is that pulls the strings out there, eat this: i fucking hate you for every time you screw with my mind like this.

desolated by breathinglesson
torn apart by manfromsun